


An Alliance

by LucreziaLouisa1986



Category: The White Queen - Fandom
Genre: F/M, alternative history
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-05
Updated: 2019-08-05
Packaged: 2020-07-31 21:56:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20122309
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LucreziaLouisa1986/pseuds/LucreziaLouisa1986
Summary: Fearing the rise of the Duke of York, Margaret of Anjou decides to take action.





	An Alliance

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this when I couldn’t sleep one night. Hope everyone enjoys.

With her scarf wrapped tight around her face, she let her only remaining piece of flesh-her eyes, survey the tavern. It was crowded with soldiers and a certain type of women hoping that the presence of so many men in town would offer some rich pickings. Some of the men clearly thought that was why she had entered The White Hart that night, for as she tired to find her target, she felt a large hand roughly grab her from behind.  
‘Unhand me at once!’ she snapped, though carefully as she could to try and hide her accent, ‘or I will make sure your head is severed from your body before sunrise!’   
‘My, my,’ sneered the hand’s owner, ‘aren’t you a spirited one! Word of advice sweetheart, you will get no business with a temper like! Now come here!’   
‘Thank you for the advice,’ she replied, breaking free of his dirty grasp and throwing herself into the crowd, ‘but I do not want your kind of business!’  
Through the mass of drunken bodies, she made her way further into the tavern, the smell of stale ale engulfing her even more. But she paid no attention, for she had spotted her target, sat in the corner of the tavern, slightly away from the rest of the men, deep in conversation with a few select drinking companions.  
She could hear them laughing and joking, slapping each other on the back the way men of all classes do when no longer in the company of women. Suddenly she felt the nerves in her belly start to gather. What if tonight went horribly wrong? If it did then surely it would mean the end of everything and it would hand victory to her enemies on a plate.   
However, she knew there was no going back now and it might be the only way to prevent blood from being spilt.   
‘My Lord Warwick,’ she called out with all her courage as she came to stand in front of his table. She tried her best to keep her voice level in the way she had been practicing for weeks but she feared her nerves were showing.  
‘Away with you,’ replied Warwick, looking up at her briefly with his bright blue eyes that were constantly on alert, ‘I have nothing to say to a common doxy,’  
‘Do I sound like a common doxy?!’ she replied, her voice raising slightly. She was not certain what a doxy was but she took a guess that it was what most of the women in the White Hart were, ‘do I dress like one?’   
With a heavy sigh, Warwick once again looked her up and down. He had to concede that she was not dressed like a whore, for although her dress was plain, it was certainly not the quality of fabric that a common wench could afford. Besides, despite the fact her face except for her eyes were covered, Warwick could tell they did not belong to a woman worn down by the cruelties of life. Also as they stared back at him with a hard intensity, made him think that he had met the woman some where before.   
‘Very well,’ he said, signalling for his drinking companions to leave, ‘are you from my wife or my aunt?’  
‘No,’ she smiled underneath her veil as she sat down in the space left by the vacating captains, ‘I am not from your wife and I am certainly not from your aunt!’  
‘Then go on,’ Warwick replied, gesturing with a wave of his hand. He was intrigued to know what this unknown women was after. However, he could not help but continue to suspect that he had seen this lady somewhere before and it made him feel uneasy. So much so that the fingers of his left hand rested on top of his sword.  
‘I am a married woman,’ the lady continued, noticing where his hand fell, ‘and I love my husband with all my heart but despite the fact he is a man of over thirty years, he is still only a boy. And it leaves me deeply unsatisfied,’  
‘As heartbreaking as your story is, my lady,’ smiled Warwick with a wicked grin, ‘unhappy marriages are not of my concern,’  
‘Oh but you see my Lord Warwick, my unfulfilled state is very much your concern,’ replied the woman, dropping her practiced voice and revealing her natural French accent as she leaned forward to whisper into Warwick’s ear, ‘because I am offering you something you have wanted ever since you first laid eyes on me,’  
Warwick went to reply but as he turned, he saw that the lady had dropped her scarf and he was face to face with Margaret of Anjou.

****

‘Your Highness,’ said Warwick, slightly flustered as he slammed the door to the small bedchamber and then bolted it securely shut, ‘what are you doing?’  
‘As I said my Lord Warwick,’ smiled Margaret, letting the scarf she was using to hide her face and hair fall to the floor, ‘I am offering you something you have wanted since we first met...me!’  
‘Margaret,’ gasped Warwick, forgetting for a moment who they were, ‘you are mad!’  
‘Come now, Richard,’ replied Margaret with a slight devilish grin as she slowly approach him, ‘do not deny you have not thought about me in that way. I have eyes and they are not as naive as people think. I see that every time you are in my presence, you cannot take your eyes off me!’  
‘You are my Queen!’ laughed Warwick, taking a long step back, ‘it’s only natural,’  
‘No, it is not, especially when you stand with a man who wants to see my husband fall,’ said Margaret, her smile disappearing slightly as her eyes stared straight at him, ‘beside I saw the way you looked at me the morning after Jack Cade. There was fire in your usually cold blue eyes and your breath was so heavy, I thought you were going to take me there and then!’   
Warwick stood there and studied her for a moment as his mind recalled the events of the morning. It had been a tough night and whilst he would never admit it, he had feared that it might be the end of the capital. He had cursed the King for abandoning the his city and leaving the Queen, his wife to face the traitors by herself. He remembered looking into the Queen’s eyes, expecting to see fear but instead he saw that those eyes belonged to a woman who was prepared to face any danger life might throw at her. He had to admit that at that very moment he had felt something stir within him, that had caused thoughts that till this day were still distracting him.  
‘Woman!’ he replied, shaking his head from side to side, ‘you are queen and queens do not act in such a foolish manner! Given the state of things, I could ruin you and your husband!’  
‘You could,’ smiled Margaret, placing a hand on his chest and letting her fingers play with the silk fabric of his tunic, ‘but you will not. For you see it is not in your interests to do so. You said I am not behaving as a Queen of England should but I am here to make sure you, your father and the bastard York do not do the unthinkable and overthrow the throne. I am offering you an alliance, which can only benefit us all... well not York of course but you, Warwick will see your family rise to great things. All you have to do is give into your desires!’  
‘You seem to think, Margaret,’ replied Warwick with a chuckle as he turned and walked away, wondering if he should let his father know about this strange turn of events. With another chuckle he imagined the look of disbelief on the old man’s face, ‘that all men are driven by lust! Well I am sorry to disappoint you but my mind does not work in such a way,’  
‘Ambition,’ answered Margaret in a booming voice that caused Warwick to stop in his tracks. With a few light steps she was suddenly behind him, standing on tiptoes so she could whisper into his ear, ‘ambition is what drives you, Richard, and I am offering you the ultimate ambition-a son who will one day rule England! You will be the second most powerful man in the realm. You will be king in all but name! You will make the realm a place suitable for our son to inherit! Think on that, Richard! A Neville boy on the throne of England!’  
‘Except no one other than you or I, would ever know!’  
‘True but sometimes the ultimate power is knowing a secret!’  
‘And what of the King, your husband and what of my wife for that matter?’ said Warwick, turning his head so that their eyes were now locked for a moment before he let his eyes fall onto her red lips. He would never deny that she was beautiful and that she was certainly wasted on the childlike Henry VI. But his loyalty was to his family first of all, for his father had drummed it in to him as soon as he was able to understand that family and name were the only things that counted in this world.   
‘My husband is king but no man. He needs men to guide him and a woman to be a mother not a wife,’ answered Margaret in a low seductive whisper, which made the hairs on Warwick’s neck stand up on end, ‘and your wife maybe able to give you titles but she cannot give you what you most desire. She cannot give you a son that will sit on the throne of England one day...Besides she is not the kind of woman you truly desire,’  
‘No,’ replied Warwick with a sigh as he let his eyes dance across curve of Margaret’s breasts, ‘and you know what I truly desire?’  
‘Of course,’ whispered Margaret, pressing herself against his hard body, ‘I suspected long ago, my Lord Warwick that deep down you like a woman, who will not just blindly follow you but who will fight you on the battlefield. You do not want a woman, who will submit to your every whim. You want a woman, who is your equal in every way. Who will debate with you, who will challenge you, who will ride you to the very brink of exhaustion! That is the kind of woman you truly desire! So what do you say, my Lord Warwick-yay or nay?’


End file.
